Cat Fur
by Hollowg1rl
Summary: Antonin has been interested in his neighbor, Hermione, for quite some time now. He also knew her cat was overly fond of wool. When things go to slow, get the cat involved. Maybe if she's distracted she'll manage to agree to a date? Muggle AU three-shot
1. First Date

Living in the just a floor below a Miss Hermione Granger was testing Antonin Dolohov's restraint. **  
**

The English woman was a delight to carry on conversations with, when their schedules matched enough to run into each other getting their mail, or on the stairs. However, that did nothing for the fact every single time the Russian built up enough resolve to ask the pretty woman out for dinner or a drink, her cat got in the way. Much like he was now.

"Crookshanks!" she was scolding the hideous tom and trying to get the cat to detach itself from Antonin's brand new wool coat. A coat he had bought because it made him look more like he belonged here in England and because he was aware how the cat hated him and loved wool. A bit of catnip in the pockets didn't hurt either.

"You know, Hermione, I was just about to inquire," he started, trying not to sneer at the cat clinging to the wide and starting a slow climb toward Antonin's arm where the coat was draped. Though before he could finish the woman he desired was inside his personal space and grabbing the cat with one arm and using her free hand to unlatch the razor sharp claws from the wool.

Swallowing a bit, she was almost never this close to him unless they were using the lift on market day together, he attempted to finish even as she was muttering to Crookshanks.

"Seeing as my intentions were thwarted in the way I wished to ask you, perhaps you would be willing to accompany me to dinner this evening, seeing as your cat saw fit to attack my coat?" He was playing dirty, but given his true line of work it was little wonder.

"Yes, of course, I'm so sorry Antonin!" Clutching Crookshanks to her chest, and looking up at him with her big brown eyes, Hermione didn't fully hear the request, she was far to ashamed that her cat was attacking her neighbor she had been harboring a crush on for months now.

"Perfect, say, half seven? Until then, _krasivaya_." With a swift bow, he turned on his heel and left their building.

Hermione was left flustered and uncertain just what he had agreed to now.

"Crooks, just what have you done?"

.:':.' :. :'. :' :.

At seven that evening, Antonin was putting the final touches of his outfit for the evening together. This was the first time he succeeded in getting Hermione to go out with him, even if it was done under handedly. A designer cable knit jumper, dark wash jeans and a pair of sturdy dark boots. He wanted to make the best first date impression as possible, so much so he even brushed his dark hair back, trimmed his beard and did his best not to scowl as to show off what he considered his best feature, his evening blue eyes.

He just hoped he wasn't going to overdo this, but he so wanted this to work. He wanted more dates with the bookish young woman was so much lighter in self than he was. Between his dark past and questionable present, he wanted some good in his life.

At five minutes till, he grabbed his now cat fur free wool coat and keys before locking up his flat and started up the stairs toward his lady's flat to pick her up. Arriving a minute before, he took a deep breath and gathered his wits about himself before knocking.

"Just a moment!" He heard through the door, sounding a bit frazzled and then a muffled curse followed by a crash.

Raising a thick dark brow, Antonin quickly smoothed his face when Hermione opened the door to him. The first thing he saw was a messy curled bun on top of her head, looking both fashionable and casual all at once. Then, the natural makeup that had her brown eyes glowing tawny in the low light of the hall. Finally, the little black dress with thick tights covered in bright orange fur that ended in little kitten heels.

Holding back a chuckle at the state of the young woman, Antonin inclined his head and grinned at her flustered invitation inside. Entering the flat, he took in the piles of books and random assortment of cat toys littering the wood floors.

"So sorry I'm taking so long getting ready, Crookshanks decided to be unhelpful and I had to lock him in the loo." As though realizing what she just said, she blushed and quickly moved further into her flat, brushing the fur from her clothes and picking up her own wool peacoat to wear in the chilly February weather.

Being a weekend before Valentine's day meant it had been too late to get reservations at a restaurant like he wanted to, but he was still able to get a table at a nice one. He just hoped they had something Hermione would like. He recalled several days in the past three months where she and her friends would eat Chinese take out. This wasn't a take out place but it was still Chinese and nice.

"So sorry I wasn't ready right away, Antonin!" Hermione was quickly returning, fur free and cheeks flushed.

"It is perfectly fine, _krasivaya_ , we are in no rush. We're not due until eight. I know I did not give you long to prepare," grinning, Antonin stood to help her into her coat before they left, trying to keep the nearly predatory gleam from his eyes since it had taken far too long to get her to agree to begin with.

Flushing, Hermione uttered a soft 'thank you' as she locked up her flat and followed her handsome neighbor down the stairs and out the door onto the cold London street.

Offering her his arm, Antonin led her down a few streets before pausing in front of the Chinese restaurant, it wasn't gaudy like most, and the soft music filtering out through the open door was more instrumental than anything else.

"I hope this is alright," he offered, slowly leading her inside.

"Oh! This is perfect, Antonin, thank you! I've always wanted to stop in here, but my friends…" Here she paused. Her friends were wonderful, but they were all still more childlike than she herself was.

"I understand, at least this way, we have something for ourselves, da?" Grinning at her, he gave his name and they were led to their table, with a comment of their server being with them momentarily. "If you see something you wish to try, order it." He was already glancing over the menu, finding a dish he wished to try and then looking over the edge of the menu to look at his date. He might have finally been invite her out, even if done sneakily while she wasn't paying complete attention to him, but he found it hard to believe.

Hermione blushed again, hiding behind the menu after deciding on jasmine tea to drink with their meal. Tea was a safe bet, and that way she wouldn't be at risk of getting drunk. Nervous sipping could prove a bad habit if involving any form of liquor after all.

When their server appeared, Antonin went with the same drink without Hermione even mentioning what she was going to order, as well as going with shrimp lo mein with a side of crab puffs, also the same as what Hermione had decided upon.

Once their server was out of hearing range. Hermione couldn't help but giggle a bit, earning a raised brow from her date.

"No, no, I'm not laughing at you! I didn't expect us to order the exact same meal was all." Smiling, she thanked the server when their tea was sat down, taking a bracing sip after it was poured and they left. Antonin did the same, watching the young woman across from him as he took a drink.

The low light highlighted her hair and face, causing a bit of discomfort in his trousers and making him subtly shift in his seat. Normally he wasn't around her quite long enough to become uncomfortable in his trousers, but getting to sit with her in such a setting was very different.

"I don't believe I've ever inquired, but what is it you do, Antonin?" It was a nice, innocent enough question, but it brought to mind vans and guns and…

"I work in security," it was a truthful enough answer at least. She didn't need to know exactly what he really did. "What of yourself, Hermione?"

"Oh! I'm in research, I even have several articles published on the history of cultural relations and their impact on current trends, both political and economical. I've even published an article regarding their impact of pop culture in recent years." Watching her start in on her career made her glow, and Antonin had to hide behind his tea to keep the grin hidden. It wouldn't do to make her believe he was mocking her, or simply indulging her.

"Truly? That is fascinating. Tell me, if you don't mind, how…" With those words, the night flew by and before they knew it, the restaurant was closing and they were stepping out into the much colder February air.

Turning to speak to the wonderful woman beside him, Antonin noticed her shivering. With a frown, he removed his coat and draped it across her shoulders to help keep her warm.

"Antonin, thank you, but won't you be cold?" Even as she asked she was clutching it tighter about her body.

"I spent over half my life in Russia, I will be fine, _krasivaya_. You, however, look to be freezing." It was said in a slightly scolding tone, even as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they made their way back to their respective flats.

"I had a wonderful time tonight, Antonin, thank you." Hermione reluctantly returned his warm coat once they were inside their building and in front of her door.

"I did as well, _krasivaya_ , thank you for agreeing to go out with me tonight. Perhaps we can do this again, da?" Grinning, Antonin was reluctant to leave her for the night, but knew better than to press his luck. While he might very much wish to be warming her bed this cold night, it was still to early for such things.

"I would like that very much, though perhaps with a bit more warning than a handful of hours before?" It was said with a teasing grin that Antonin couldn't help but smile in response to.

"Of course, _krasivaya_ , I shall do so. Perhaps next week? What night works best for you?" He was already plotting things for the next outing, and could barely wait when they could do this again.

* * *

 **Pre-note = 1,831**

 **Written for AshCastle's Valentines Prompts!**

 **7-** **Character B has asked A out, but A was too distracted by the puppy/cat/other animal nearby to properly pay attention**


	2. First Anniversary

A year later, Antonin rolled over the bed, blindly groping for his mobile that was chirping at him. A soft moan of annoyance made him grin even as he answered the call in sleep accented Russian. He was still half asleep and wanted to return to regaining energy to continue their anniversary antics.

Those plans were quickly dashed at the voice on the other end of the call. Sitting upright and shoving the covers off himself, and part of Hermione if the hiss of cold was anything to go by, Antonin stood and started pacing as he spoke and listened. It was involving work, and it was making him scowl darkly. He was on the phone for about ten minutes before hanging up.

"Antonin, is everything alright?" Hermione asked, having sat up and tugged the blankets up to cover herself from the chill in the air. Her brown eyes were large in the dim light from the loo shining into their bedroom.

"Da, everything is fine, _krasivaya_ , nothing to worry over. It was involving work. I'll have to be out of town for a few days." Pressing a kiss to her lips, he straightened, looking down at the gorgeous woman in his bed and feeling himself stir to life for the fifth time in the last twenty-four hours.

Her pout nearly undid him as she let the covers fall, sitting up and then kneeling before him. If this job wasn't so important he would have gladly taken her again.

"I have to leave as soon as I pack," pure regret colored his words as he stepped back from the bed and turned to the closet. Within moments he was packed and ready to go. Stopping once more at the bed, he pressed a kiss to the top of Hermione's head as she was already dozing off again.

"Be safe, Antonin," she mumbled, reaching out of the covers toward him.

"I will, _krasivaya_ , I'll be home before you know it." Kissing her fingers, he left their bedroom and exited their flat. Making certain the door was securely locked, he turned and went out to the street. He was already on the phone and talking to his ride.

He was about to turn the corner when he saw the slick black car waiting in the right spot. Looking around, he was quick to enter it as soon as he knew no one was watching.

"Long time no see, comrade," the other man was speaking in Russian, despite the thick American accent.

"I am not your comrade, boy. Just take me where I need to go." Antonin was quick to reply, his own Russian flawless and rolling off his tongue. He was so tempted to give up this lifestyle, but it wasn't possible. Not only that, but he couldn't risk Hermione this early in. His boss wouldn't take kindly to him leaving the business, at least not yet.

He just hoped Hermione didn't hate him if the truth ever came to light.

.:':. ':. :' .:':.

Hermione was sad Antonin had to leave on their anniversary, but she made the best of things. She still went to work, returned to the flat and checked on Crookshanks and the emails about places outside of the city. They hadn't heard much, and Crookshanks had quickly taken over Antonin's side of the bed. All in all, it was mostly uneventful while waiting for him to return.

At least, it was until the sixth day.

Hermione was exhausted coming home, her brain fuzzy from too much happening that day, and didn't realize something was wrong. The door wasn't locked, to begin with, and Crookshanks was hissing lowly in the front room, not that Hermione heard as she was muttering to herself.

One moment she was slipping out of her shoes and debating what to order in to eat, the next, a splitting pain to the back of her head and then nothing.

.:':. ':. :' .:':.

Antonin returned home a couple hours after Hermione had, instantly knowing something was wrong despite his own exhaustion. Pulling a gun from the back of his trousers, he eased toward the door even as he sent an urgent text to a close friend of his.

The first thing he noticed was Crookshanks hissing from under the couch, and a few dribbles of blood not far away. Kneeling down and softly cooing to the mangy beast, Antonin kept his eyes on a swivel as he took in the state of their flat.

Just as his eyes found a note, Rowle sent a text in return stating he was outside the building and on his way up. Within seconds he was bounding inside, his own gun drawn and looking around.

"Must be big for you to call me in, Antonin," Thorfinn muttered, looking around the flat, trying to get a feel for the place. He'd only been here once before, and the most glaringly obvious thing was the tiny female touches littering the place.

Antonin grunted, moving to and reading the note without touching it. It was handwritten but sloppily done. Either with the nondominant hand or in a rush, though the Russian would bet good money on the former.

"'We have taken your woman, Dolohov, and she'll stay alive so long as you do as we say. You'll hear from us at midnight.' They didn't sign." Antonin didn't respond to his old partner, instead, he read the note and then using the breathing exercises Hermione was so fond of when her research was giving her issues. Strangely enough, it helped calm him.

At least, it did before a loud _'mreow!'_ and cursing brought his attention to Crookshanks attacking Thorfinn when he wandered too close to Antonin. While the Russian may not always get along with his girl's demon cat, Crookshanks was protective of those his mistress cared for.

Giving a deep sigh, he strode over and picked up the hellcat, cradling the beast and staring at his usual partner completely deadpan. Thorfinn and cats did not mix well, apparently.

"Keep that beast away from me, Antonin, and I'll help find your woman. That thing comes near me again and I'm backing out, favor or no favor!" The blond growled, pointing at the duo as though it were somehow Antonin's fault the cat didn't like his friend.

A simple nod was his reply, already returning to the breathing exercises to calm himself before whoever it was that took Hermione contacted him.

Once he was settled, he examined the note once more, his keen eyes picking up a slight shadowy shimmer in the corner. Frowning, he held it up to the light, finally noticing a phoenix hidden in plain sight. With a snarl, he tossed the note to Thorfinn, the stocky blonde catching and scanning the note, before he too saw the phoenix.

"Fuck!" He snarled, crumpling the paper as he made a fist and punched his hand to avoid damaging the flat. He knew Antonin wouldn't appreciate it if he left a hole in a wall.

"I will kill everyone who frightened her, Thorfinn. I swear it." His own hands were in tight fists as he fought to remain in control.

.:':. ':. :' .:':.

Hermione herself awoke to find herself bound to a hard chair and blindfolded. She didn't know where she was or what was going on. Only that she wasn't at their flat or that she was safe, given the voices she could hear sounded angry, and not on her behalf.

"We should just get recorded messages from her and get rid of her. We only need the Russian to do his job, then we'll take him out. The slag is probably one of them anyway." The voice was harsh and masculine, but that was all she could tell.

"Nah, we need to keep her around until he follows through with it. Use her as leverage and bait. Maybe we'll even be given her as a reward before we kill her. Just not yet." Another masculine voice, different in tone from the first.

"Both of you stop that this instant! Albus wants her to remain unharmed and untouched!" A shrill feminine voice this time, making Hermione feel a little safer, if only because she hoped the woman wasn't going to let the men touch her. "Oh! You're awake deary!" The voice didn't move to remove the blindfold, but she did offer a straw.

Had Hermione not been so thirsty she would have refused the drink, but her throat was far to dry. At least she had a name now.

"Wh-where am I?" She was croaking the words, but she had to ask. "Why did you kidnap me? Who are you?" She was nearing hysterics but she had to ask.

"Now don't you worry about any of that, deary. No one will hurt you, so long as that man of yours does as he's told." A condescending patting on her bound arm made Hermione want to cry.

She didn't understand why they were doing this. She was just a researcher and Antonin was in security, what could they possibly have done to get into this mess?

.:':. ':. :' .:':.

Exactly at midnight, his cell phone rang, and Antonin answered it before the second ring even started.

"Where is she?" Antonin demanded the second he answered. He knew it was one of those Order of the Phoenix bastards calling on her phone. She never just called him, she always sent a text first and then video called him when she contacted him on their phones. It was a security procedure they had come up with in case of an emergency.

It also pissed him off because their phones were fingerprint unlocked so they had to force her to do this.

"So long as you do as we say, you'll see her safe and sound. Now, since you are stupid enough to lose your woman, you might want to take notes. You are going to kill Voldemort for us. We know you work for him. But it can't be a quick, silent kill. You are going to turn it into a spectacle to the point it's on the news. Do you understand?" The voice was one that Antonin was familiar with, one of those from the Weasley clan that blindly followed the famous Albus Dumbledore, their self proclaimed godfather of their particular gang.

Back when 'Voldemort' was just up and coming Tom Riddle, and his fledgling gang known as the Knights of Walpurgis, Albus had attempted to get the rich boys Tom had following his whims for their bank accounts. Gellert Grindelwald and his Deathly Hallows were causing a ruckus after his and Albus' very messy breakup, and Dumbledore wanted the funds to outfit his poorer Phoenix members with better guns and clothing. Tom had turned him down, and after the police sting that shut Gellert and his Hallows down, Tom had taken the name Death Eaters for his newer, bigger operation. The original members were still Knights, but the newer members, or those that were hired and not fully initiated, were Death Eaters. Antonin was one such member, a Death Eater.

While both still thriving gangs had members all across the United Kingdom, only Voldemort had people from further in Europe and into Asia.

"I understand perfectly. Do I have any other restrictions?" The question was bit out, his free hand twirling a knife. Thorfinn was messing with his lighter on the other side of the couch, waiting to see what he could do to help.

"Yeah, you have no more than a month before the slag gets it!" Then the line went dead and a string of curses spewed forth from Antonin in pure rage.

"So, what and when?" Thorfinn drawled, still clicking his lighter.

"The Order of the Phoenix wants Voldemort dead within a month. Newsworthy."

"Well fuck." He fell back, slumping in his seat in shock.

"Yes, I am."

* * *

 **Pre-note = 2,013**

 **Sorry for the long delay, life happened, but in exchange, you'll get a 3rd chapter!**


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